


Running (as is traditional)

by shadoedseptmbr



Series: Flipping Coins [4]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 10:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadoedseptmbr/pseuds/shadoedseptmbr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before Isabela asks for Hawke to help her run down the relic, Fenris overhears Hawke's future plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running (as is traditional)

The Hanged Man never managed to disappoint. The wave of stale ale and bodies drifted over Fenris as he entered the tavern. He ignored Corff and made his way back to Varric’s suite. He stopped, though, at the sound of voices. Apparently Hawke and Aveline had arrived early. He intended to continue in, but something made him listen first.

“You haven’t told anyone? You’re not really thinking about this, Hawke?” Fenris heard the concern in Aveline’s voice and drew closer to Varric’s rooms, suddenly wanting to hear the conversation, without being seen.

“I don’t know why not, Aveline.”

“But your estate? And Bethany.”

“The _Amell_ estate.” Hawke bluntly cut the other woman off. “And I’ve spoken to Cullen. He thinks it might be possible for Bethany to transfer to the Ferelden Circle. Apparently there’s a call out for well-trained enchanters.” Ferelden? Fenris frowned. Why would Hawke’s sister be moved to another Circle?

Aveline lacked her usual forthright tone when she spoke again. “I thought you’d found a place here.” 

There was a pause before Hawke answered. “You have, Guard Captain.” Fenris heard the fondness in her use of Aveline’s title. “You’ve done well and I’m glad for you. But I…” There was another pause, Hawke clearly struggled with what she was saying, unwilling to twist it into a joke, to deflect the truth of it. “I have utterly failed in the duty my father entrusted to me.”

“Hawke.”

She ran over Aveline’s attempt to comfort. “Bethany went to the Circle. By her own choice, Aveline. Mother and Carver are dead. My father was apparently a blood mage, himself, and.” Fenris almost turned to enter the room as she snagged on that last thought. “Just, what is there here for me, Aveline?” The question rang with sorrow before she continued in a brisker tenor. “No. King Alistair is trying to rebuild Ferelden. I could be of some use, somewhere. Here, I’m just…what did you say? Neck-deep in trouble?”

“I was just attempting to get you to take up…” Aveline trailed off, but Fenris could have finished the sentence. A new duty. Anything to take Hawke’s mind off of her mother and the emptiness her companions could see growing. 

“You have Donnic and the Guard. Anders has his cause. Varric has his business. Merrill has her mirror, Maker help us.” Aveline grunted an agreement to that. “Isabella thinks her ship is coming in any minute. Fenris hasn’t heard anything from slavers since he took down that bitch.“ The earthenware tumbler she likely held clunked against Varric’s stone table. “All I have is a viscount who thinks I’ve jumped my station and an Arishok who thinks I’m his squire.” 

“Fenris.” For a minute, he thought he’d been discovered, but no. Apparently Aveline thought to use him as a reason to keep Hawke in Kirkwall. He scuffed his foot against the ground, knowing the way Hawke would cast her eyes aside and turn a quip at any attempt from one of their companions to analyze their relationship. He startled, then, at her next words, relayed in the cool, detached voice she used with Meredith and the Viscount. Her “my, aren’t we all so reasonable and well-bred” Voice, she called it.  
.   
“Fenris has made himself clear. I won’t disrespect him by being childish and clinging.” 

He’d never heard her speak so openly about his abandonment of her. 

Aveline cut to the point. “You’re running.”

The tumbler scraped against the table again. “Damn straight. A fine Hawke family tradition.”


End file.
